Angel, I'm BORED
by DrAutumn123
Summary: Crowley is bored and decides to bother Aziraphale, who just wants to read. Dear SOMEBODY, he just wants to READ! Not explicitly ineffable husbands but could be read that way.


The bookshop _was_ quiet.

Aziraphale had been enjoying a warm cup of tea (dash of milk, bit of sugar, absolutely delicious) and was in his favorite chair with a good book. A new book (a re-telling of one of his old favorites, the Iliad, from the point of view of Achilles' lover Patrolcus) that he was enjoying very much*. No customers had dared enter the shop that day, it was raining pleasantly, and the sound of the cars on the street outside provided the perfect background noise that made getting lost in the novel as easy as breathing. In short, a perfect day for the angel.

Until the door was kicked open rather rudely by a loud, interrupting demon.

"Angel!" Crowley yelled as the door slammed against the wall with enough force to make Aziraphale flinch from his chair. He'd been so absorbed in his novel that he hadn't even felt Crowley approaching, which Crowley had no doubt noticed and used to his advantage in blasting the door wide open. He knew he'd never have gotten away with it if Aziraphale had been paying attention, and he did take such pleasure in startling the angel whenever he could.

"Angel, I'm _bored." _Crowley whined. The door closed itself behind him, the shop itself petulant at the abuse it suffered at the demon's hands-er, boot, as he had _kicked_ the door. Crowley expertly wound his way through the labyrinth of the shop and to the sitting room in the back where he knew Aziraphale was sequestered away. Sure enough, he found the angel in his favorite chair, rubbing his temples in exasperation. The sight brought a grin to Crowley's face.

"My dear, don't you have anyone else you could be bothering?" Aziraphale asked, knowing the answer. Crowley delighted in bothering _him specifically_. "No humans to tempt or anything of the sort?"

"Nope!" Crowley said, popping the 'p' loudly, and draping himself in the opposite armchair. His long limbs were splayed in a way that would look ridiculous on any other being, but Crowley managed to look elegant as always, even with one leg hooked over the arm, one spread straight out in front of him, one arm across the back of the chair and one draped dramatically over his face.

"Not even plants to terrorize?" Aziraphale felt almost guilty for encouraging Crowley's typically behaviors, but really. Achilles and Patrolcus were just simply too interesting for him to care, so long as he could return to his book as soon as possible.

"Nah, they've been annoyingly well behaved lately. And the humans are getting along wretchedly without my help. Especially with that orange twat* running around mucking things up." He made a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out. "Americans."

"Language, my dear." Aziraphale chided lightly.

"What? Twat? Or Americans?"

Aziraphale sighed, and closed his book gently, keeping his finger in his place. Hopefully he would be able to find a way to entertain Crowley quickly so he could get back to it.

"Well what would you like me to do about it?" Aziraphale asked, close to exasperation.

"Well now that you've asked I don't think a good old fashioned smiting would be out of place. If you deal with him I'll get the other one.**"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said with a sigh. "I am trying to read."

"Ooooh something new and unusual for you, angel." Crowley quipped, leaning up slightly and looking at the angel with a smirk. He was met with a glare.

"Come on, Zira, let's go to dinner. My treat." He pleaded. Aziraphale glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Crowley, dear, it's 3 pm." Crowley groaned loudly and collapsed back into the chair.

Aziraphale sighed, and rubbing his forehead again, made a decision.

"If you let me read until 5:30, we can go out to dinner." Crowley raised his arm off his face and turned over to glance at Aziraphale hopefully.

"And a movie?" He asked, an expert in pushing his luck. Aziraphale glanced down at his novel. He could finish it by dinner, and then would have nothing distracting him. Aziraphale knew Crowley only wanted to go so he could burn people's popcorn and make nervous teens spill their drinks on their dates, but if it made the demon happy...

"If you let me finish this book, then yes."

Crowley considered. Nothing to do until then, but dinner was always a good time. And perhaps he could get Aziraphale drunk enough to not notice if he wrapped his arms around his shoulders in the theater. Yes, a very good night was possible. If he could just survive until then.

"Fiiiiine. Finish your book I suppose." He tried not to sound too eager. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but opened his book back up in his lap and was quickly engrossed once again.

Crowley listened to the clock tick exactly four (4) times before he couldn't take it any longer.

Shifting to his serpent form, he made his way across the room unnoticed by the angel, and slithered up the back of his chair. With a soft _thud_ he let his weight fall onto the distracted angel's shoulders, winding himself around his neck several times like a scarf. He flicked his forked tongue over Aziraphale's ear for good measure before settling himself in for a nap.

Aziraphale pursed his lips in frustration.

"Are you _quite done?_"

Crowley hummed contentedly, shifting his weight in an annoying fashion, further burrowing himself into the angel's shoulders.

Twenty minutes passed by uneventfully. In Crowley's defense, he did _try_ to sleep. He was rather warm and comfortable. It was quiet. He was bored. All those things should've added up to a pleasant short nap. Aziraphale even smelled comforting; like tea and books and _love_ (not that Crowley would ever, ever admit that he could smell that). But Crowley was just restless.

Another five minutes passed with him shifting around, trying to not bother Aziraphale too much, and trying to get comfortable. That just wasn't the problem. He was comfortable enough. Perhaps the most comfortable he'd ever been in his life. _Just lie still, Crowley, you're 6,000 years old you can be bored a couple of hours, _he chided himself. But demons are not good at being patient. Might as well give up and bother Aziraphale, he decided.

He lifted his head up and tickled Aziraphale's ear with his tongue again. Aziraphale absentmindedly swatted at him, his attention still on his book. Crowley considered just plopping himself into Aziraphale's lap, obscuring the book with his serpentine body, but that would be too easy. He could entertain himself just by trying to get Aziraphale's attention away from the book.

"Hey, 'Zzzzira" Crowley hissed, letting his tongue continue to tickle Aziraphale's ear, knowing that eventually it would annoy him. He was persistent that way. "How'd the snake escape prison?"

Aziraphale didn't respond, but flipped his page instead.

"He _sssscaled_ the wall." Crowley finished his own joke with a chuckle. He slithered around Aziraphale's shoulders to bother his other ear.

"Why wassssn't the sssnake ssscared at the haunted houssse?" He wassssn't easily _rattled." _Nothing. Crowley would've squared his shoulders if he had any at the moment. It was time to get serious.

"Why do snakes only measure in inches?" Crowley saw Aziraphale's eye twitch. "They don't have any feet."

"What do you call an important English snake?" Crowley was quite proud of this one, he hoped for a reaction. "Sir Pent." Another twitch but nothing else.

"Come on angel that one was fang-tastic."

"Alright what do you call a snake-" Aziraphale slammed his book shut loudly and glared at Crowley the best he could with the serpent wrapped around his own neck.

"You think you're really hysterical don't you, Crowley?" He grouched. Crowley hung his head momentarily before quipping back,

"Hisss-terical." Aziraphale jumped to his feet in frustration and shouted. He grabbed at the snake's body and started to pull him off his neck, while Crowley did his best to keep winding around him and thwarting his efforts, determined to stay exactly where he was.

"You can't even let me finish a single book you ungrateful, slithering-" Crowley decided it was a perfect moment to turn back into a human, causing Aziraphale to fall back into his chair with a lap full of Crowley and his arms around his neck. Crowley flicked out his still forked tongue and licked the angel's nose.

"You're lucky I don't still have my flaming sword, demon." Aziraphale grouched, attempting to push Crowley off his lap and onto the floor. Crowley clung tightly to his neck and refused to budge.

"But you don't sssso…" Crowley taunted, unfazed.

"Crowley," Aziraphale whined, "My book is on the floor!" Crowley flicked his gaze to where the teal covered novel was indeed on the floor, face open. And most importantly, completely out of reach for an angel with a lap full of demon.

"A sssshame." Crowley hissed, pleased. He turned his smug face away from the book and back to Aziraphale, who was staring mournfully at the floor still. Crowley chuckled at the expression.

"You could just miracle it up here, angel." He pointed out, before internally smacking himself in the face with his tail. The point was to make sure he _didn't_ have the book so that Aziraphale paid attention to _Crowley_. '_Stop being helpful just because he looks cute!'_ Crowley thought to himself. _'You're a selfish, selfish demon!' _

"Yes dear I could. But then I'd still have the pesky little problem of an impatient-" Crowley nodded agreeing,.

"annoying-" Crowley gasped dramatically.

"_drama queen_ in my lap not allowing me to actually _read_ the cursed thing." Aziraphale finished.

"Angel, how _dare _you. I'm no drama queen!" Crowley flung himself backwards, dramatically, still in Aziraphale's lap but now sprawled out across it fully. Aziraphale sighed and took a moment to collect himself.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Crowley dear?" He offered. Aziraphale himself certainly needed one to deal with Crowley's antics. Crowley's head perked up immediately.

"I'd _love _one, angel." He made no move to get up.

"You have to move, dear." Crowley wiggled but made no effort to get off of Aziraphale's lap.

"At least change back into a snake then!" Aziraphale muttered, exasperated. "That way I can carry you!" Crowley decided that was favorable and within a few seconds was once again a snake around Aziraphale's neck.

Aziraphale rose from the chair and stared dejectedly at the book on the floor one last time. No doubt if he tried to bend to pick it up Crowley would do something annoying, like smack him in the face with his tail. No, best not. Instead, he used a small (miniscule really) miracle to place the book on the table gently, a bookmark between the pages where he had left off. With a huff he moved through the bookshop to the small kitchenette and began the process of making tea. Pulling out his favorite mug and Crowley's****, a matching set that he'd had since the early 1800s, he waited somewhat impatiently for the kettle to boil. He thought about using a miracle to speed up the process but before he could, he heard his least favorite sound in the universe: the bell of his shop door that indicated a customer had entered.

"I am never going to finish that book." He muttered to himself, switching off the kettle quickly and rushing to the front of the store before the man could touch anything.

Coming up behind the customer, a young man who was looking around with a lost expression, Aziraphale greeted him with as much false friendliness as he could muster.

"Hello young man, is there anything I can help you find today?"

The young man turned at the sound of Aziraphale's voice with a grin, "Yeah, actually I'm in the market for a copy of _Anna Karinin-HOLY SHIT!" _The man screamed as he faced Aziraphale fully and caught sight of Crowley hanging around his neck. The nearly 2 meter long snake raised his head and blinked slowly at the human, flicking his tongue out in interest. Aziraphale looked taken aback.

"Now really there's no call for that type of language," the angel chidded for a second time that day. "He's only a snake after all." Crowley would've grinned menacingly if he had lips. Instead, he wound around Aziraphale's neck, his muscles rolling and rippling dangerously with the effort. The young man looked like he was about to faint at the sight. He backed away from Aziraphale, turning to keep facing him as he rushed out the door, afraid to turn his back on Crowley. Once he had left (running down the street from the bookshop as fast as he could) Crowley couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Sssshould've ssspoken to him. That would've really sssscared him." Aziraphale faced him the best he could.

"Did you miracle ophidiophobia into that poor boy?" Aziraphale asked skeptically. Crowley shook his arrow shaped head.

"Nah, angel. I didn't even think too. But I definitely will remember that for next time. That's the most fun I've had in days." Aziraphale perked up.

"So you are no longer bored then?" He asked hopefully. Crowley thought about it for a second.

"I think I'm suitably entertained for now." He replied. "Until dinner that is." He added quickly, least the angel think he was getting out of that so easily. Aziraphale beamed.

"I might get to finish my book after all then!" He said giddily, heading back to his chair, miracling the tea finished as he went. It was waiting for them on the table when they sat down.

*Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, which is one of the best books of the decade in the author's (my) most humble opinion.

**Donald J. Tr*mp. Even the forces of Hell (at least, this particular one) hated that man. Crowley in particular was enraged that he shared an initial with him. #FuckTrump was one of Crowley's proudest accomplishments, and he'd been behind several trending hashtags in the years since it's invention

***Crowley was also a strong opponent of (re- _fucking hated_) the vice president. Seriously, who condoned the physical and emotion torture of _children_ because of their sexuality? No one-not even Aziraphale- would ever know but Crowley had personally led to the bills banning conversion therapy being signed into law in as many states as possible. (Aziraphale also had a hand in it, not that he'd ever tell anyone either, and each were completely unaware of the other's influence).

****Crowley would deny having a favorite mug at the shop but he always used the same one whenever he miracled himself a drink. Aziraphale had even seen him miracle a drink that he had made for him from a different mug into this one before.


End file.
